“Oh, I’d have held him there till he got
cooled off, and then made a run for it. A wet
man can’t catch a dry man.”

“Say, son, you’re a dry one, all
right.”

“Eh?”

“Wake up! I’m saying you’re
all right.”

“Much obliged.”

“You certainly took enough off him to rile a
sheep. Why didn’t you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Tip him in.”

Perkins glanced upward at the balcony where the vines
had closed upon a face that smiled.

“Oh,” he said mildly, “he’s
a friend of a friend of mine.”

IV

TWO ON A MOUNTAIN-SIDE

Orchids do not, by preference, grow upon a cactus
plant. Little though she recked of botany, Miss
Brewster was aware of this fundamental truth.
Neither do they, without extraneous impulsion, go
hurtling through the air along deserted mountain-sides,
to find a resting-place far below; another natural-history
fact which the young lady appreciated without being
obliged to consult the literature of the subject.
Therefore, when, from the top of the appointed rock,
she observed a carefully composed bunch of mauve Cattleyas
describe a parabola and finally join two previous
clusters upon the spines of a prickly-pear patch, she
divined some energizing force back of the phenomenon.
That energizing force she surmised was temper.

“Fie!” said she severely. “Beetle
gentlemen should control their little feelings.
Naughty, naughty!”

From below rose a fervid and startled exclamation.

“Naughtier, naughtier!” deprecated the
visitor. “Are these the cold and measured
terms of science?”

“You haven’t lived up to your bet,”
complained the censured one.

“Indeed I have! I always play fair, and
pay fair. Here I am, as per contract.”

“Nearly half an hour late.”

“Not at all. Four-thirty was the time.”

“And now it is three minutes to five.”

“Making twenty-seven minutes that I’ve
been sitting here waiting for a welcome.”

“Waiting? Oh, Miss Brewster—­”

“I’m not Miss Brewster. I’m
a voice in the wilderness.”

“Then, Voice, you haven’t been there more
than one minute. A voice isn’t a voice
until it makes a noise like a voice. Q.E.D.”

“There is something in that argument,”
she admitted. “But why didn’t you
come up and look for me?”

“Does one look for a sound?”

“Please don’t be so logical. It tires
my poor little brain. You might at least have
called.”

“That would have been like holding you up for
payment of the bet, wouldn’t it? I was
waiting for you to speak.”